


A Mountain You Scale (Without Thinking Of Size)

by hunterfics



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Genderfluid Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunterfics/pseuds/hunterfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>There are probably words for this, if Dan were to go looking for them.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>(genderfluid!dan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mountain You Scale (Without Thinking Of Size)

**Author's Note:**

> Given the dearth of representation of genderqueerness in fic/media/life, it’s probably worth pointing out a few things: 1) people experience genderqueerness in a lot of different ways, 2) this is one way that people who may or may not be Dan Howell may or may not experience it, and 3) nobody actually 100% for sure knows Dan Howell’s gender identity except Dan Howell and people who have been informed of Dan Howell’s gender by Dan Howell. That said, there’s nothing wrong with having queer headcanons and tbh they are my life force so here we are. This fic is really personal for me and was actually quite difficult for me to write, but it’s helped me a lot and I hope you get something out of it too. (title from Bravado by Lorde) (originally posted on [my tumblr](http://hearteyeshowell.tumblr.com/post/107848946509/title-a-mountain-you-scale-without-thinking-of))
> 
> warnings for: swearing, dysphoria, a bit of internalized transphobia, well-meaning people reacting to genderqueerness in slightly less than ideal ways, and some truly disgusting fluff bc queer stories are too sad too often.

He's never really been comfortable with his body. When he was a kid he was chubby, round-faced and fleshy-hipped, and once he started getting taller he went all gawky, long lanky arms and legs that he didn't know how to control. He's finished with puberty now, doesn't have to worry about growing another four inches in a single year ever again, but the discomfort and unease he's always felt with the way he looks remains.

He's just... He just doesn't look right. He doesn't look the way he feels he's meant to. Or he does, sort of – he likes the way his shoulders fill out his suit jackets and he likes how broad his hands are and he likes his bum. He's got a really fucking nice bum. And his hips are narrow now, just a tiny trace of softness leftover from his teen years, and his legs are long and strong and the subject of many a tumblr meltdown.

He's attractive, really. Objectively, he knows this. He knows people look at him and see a pinnacle of beauty, of desirability. He knows that he's easy on the eyes.

It's just that sometimes he looks in the mirror and feels like he's crumpling, because he looks  _wrong._  He looks wrong and he feels wrong and it's not something he can define, it's not as easy as picking and choosing something to improve upon. It's not a case of eating better or exercising more or getting a different haircut, because he's tried all of that and none of it has worked. And he doesn't  _understand_ , doesn't even know how to begin understanding, and that's infuriating.

It's his body, his brain. He should understand why none of it feels like it belongs to him.

 

-

 

Sometimes Dan dresses like a girl. It's not a  _thing_ , really. No one knows about it, not even Phil. It's stupid, Dan thinks, and a phase, and not something that needs to be fussed over, so he just stays quiet about it.

Girl clothes are pretty, that's all. They're pretty and soft and lovely and Dan likes the way they look, likes the way it feels to have a skirt swishing around his thighs. It's different and nice and totally normal, right? It's fine. Dan's fine.

He wears little silk panties sometimes as well, although Phil knows about that. That's kind of a sex thing. That's how it started at least, Phil asking if there was anything he wanted to try and Dan shyly bringing it up, Phil's eyes going bright and a strange warmth in Dan's chest when Phil agreed.

The panties feel incredible on Dan's skin, lace and satin hugging his bum and barely containing his cock. And they're so  _pretty_ , pale pink with black lace, a lovely contrast to the gold of his skin.

He feels pretty when he wears them, and he can't explain it, and maybe it's a kink but it feels like something more.

 

-

 

He watches Louise's videos because they're friends and because he doesn't get to see her too often, busy as they both are. In the past, he's put them on as background noise. He hasn't been terribly interested in makeup tutorials up 'til now.

He's holding a little pink cosmetics bag though, full of a hodgepodge of makeup that the girl at Selfridge's helped him pick out (“for your girlfriend I assume?” had stung, but he nodded and let her show him different styles of eyeliner, his eyes wide and his heart racing), and it's a gentle weight where it's balancing on his thigh. He went and bought the makeup when Phil was holed up in the office editing his newest video a few days ago, and he hasn't had a chance to use it yet. Phil's out until later in the evening though – an old friend from uni is in London and they wanted to have an afternoon together before she went back up north. Dan doesn't mind having the flat to himself – he's got himself all set up in the bathroom, alternating between staring at his reflection and the video playing on his laptop, which he's got balanced on the counter underneath the mirror. He's not sure he can do it – when he did Cat's makeup years ago it was a massive disaster and he hasn't tried to handle so much as a mascara wand since – but he's determined to try. He tells himself it's for a video. Never mind that he's not even got one planned right now. He'll sort something out once he manages to figure out the difference between all of these expensive little tubes.

Louise makes it look so easy, but it's really fucking not, Dan thinks as he struggles to draw a straight line with the black eyeliner the Selfridge's girl helped him choose. He's majorly fucked up four times already and he's close to tears. This isn't  _fun_ , how can Louise do this for a living?

He gives up after breaking off the tip of the pencil eyeliner for the fifth time, tears welling up in his eyes because he feels so utterly, disgustingly  _wrong_  and he wants to be pretty and he's a fucking  _boy_ , he shouldn't have to do this at all.

He takes a shower so hot it almost hurts and wishes he would dissolve under the stream of water. Eyeliner runs into his eyes and he tells himself that that's why he's crying.

 

-

 

It's all over his tumblr tag, is the thing. Edits and drawings and fics, captioned  _genderbend_ and  _cisswap_ and  _fem!dan_. Versions of himself with long hair, with plush red lips and mascara-ed eyelashes, with winged eyeliner and long curly hair and  _tits_.

It makes something inside him itch and gnaw at his bones and he doesn't understand why. He doesn't understand why he wants to look like that, why he wants hips and tits and waist-length hair, why he spends hour after hour every day trawling through online shops and looking at dresses, pretending he'd fit into them. Pretending this is okay.

 

-

 

There are probably words for this, if Dan were to go looking for them. But doing so would mean that this is real, that this is an actual  _thing_  that needs to be addressed. And it's not.

It's not.

It's really not, because it's only sometimes. It's only sometimes that he feels like something huge is missing from himself, like he's been hollowed out completely, his insides scooped up and taken away, leaving a phantom ache that he's terrified to name. It's only sometimes that looking at his reflection makes him want to shatter the mirror. Sometimes he's fine.

Sometimes he feels the way he's supposed to feel. Sometimes he's normal.

But sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he's not.

 

-

 

He sees it on tumblr first – the word that makes things start to make sense.  _Genderfluid_.  _Fluctuating between genders._

He clicks on the blog and reads more, reads and reads and  _reads_ , and the more information he absorbs, the more he thinks  _oh shit, this is me_.

He says it out loud, “genderfluid,” and lets the word roll around in his mouth for a while. Lets it sit heavy on his tongue and fill the spaces between his teeth and drip off his lips.

It makes so much  _sense_ , this four-syllable word. It feels right, fills a little bit of the hollowness in Dan's chest.

It feels right in the way Dan never has, and it's strange, and he stares at his reflection and says it again – “genderfluid” – and lets himself smile.

 

-

 

He stays quiet about it for weeks, spends most of his time holed up in his room reading and researching and trying to figure out the complexities of being who he is. It's a very complicated sort of thing, and he feels a bit out of place because so many of the people talking about genderfluidity on tumblr are so  _young,_ just thirteen and fourteen and already so sure of who they are. Dan feels a bit like he might be faking it. He can't help thinking that maybe if he were  _really_ trans he'd have figured it out at a much younger age.

He sends in an anonymous ask, makes sure to send it from an incognito window so he's definitely logged out. He doesn't even want to consider what would happen if he accidentally forgot to press anon on a tumblr message about his fucking gender identity.

 _hey ky_ , he writes to the admin of the blog he's been lurking on.  _do you think it's possible to figure out that you're genderfluid or trans or whatever when you're older? like 20s? i've felt very invalidated and unsure lately bc i am a bit older (23) and i'm only just now starting to figure this all out, whereas so many trans people talk about knowing when they were young, and it sort of makes me feel like i'm not trans enough? or something. sorry if this is hard to understand, i'm still trying to sort out how to word this :/_

He hits send and clicks away, goes back to scrolling through the H&M website, staring at dresses and tights and lingerie, wishing that just looking could fill the hollowness behind his ribcage.

 

-

 

Ky replies an hour later, their response bright and cheerful as usual.

_hey butterbean! tbh it's totally possible and actually pretty common! your transness is valid whether you're four or forty or four hundred, okay? your identity is yours and yours alone and you are the only one who is able and allowed to dictate it. if you think you're trans, then you're trans! if you think you're genderlfluid, then you're genderfluid! gender doesn't have to be a static thing and it can change, and it doesn't matter how old you were when you started to identify as trans. your identity is yours and yours alone and your comfort and mental health should be your priority. sorry, my thoughts are a bit scattered today but I really hope that helped!_

It helps a little, but in the hour since Dan sent the message he's started to feel very boyish (he doesn't know how to describe the difference between girlish and boyish and both and none, but the distinctions are very clear to him, and when he's boyish he doesn't feel real enough, trans enough, to even think about going on gender blogs) so he closes the tab and plugs in his headphones and turns on Dimmu Borgir very loud and lets himself pace around his room, breathing hard and feeling fire flicker in the empty space in his chest.

 

-

 

He's leaving to go to dinner with Phil and Bryony and Wirrow in just fifteen minutes but the way his suit jacket is stretched flat across his chest is making him want to scream. He's so  _flat_ , made of nothing but straight lines and right angles. He wants to be curvy and pretty and girly and instead he's in a fucking suit and tie, his fringe pushed back a bit and his shoulders looking broad and manly in his black blazer.

“Dan?” Phil calls through the door. “Are you nearly ready?” Dan doesn't answer. He can't move his eyes from his reflection. “Dan, I'm coming in in five, have pants on.”

Five seconds pass and the door opens. Dan doesn't move.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks. Dan stares at his reflection, at the shadows under his eyes and the heaviness of his brow, and feels anxiety prickling under his skin.

“I'm genderfluid,” he blurts out, and  _fuck_ , that's not how that was meant to go.

Phil appears behind Dan in the reflection and rests his chin on Dan's shoulder. His hair is soft on the side of Dan's jaw.

“Okay,” Phil says simply, pressing a kiss to the skin under Dan's ear. Dan frowns. There's panic fluttering under his skin, threatening to flare up.

“Just okay? Like you, like, you know what it means? And like, I'm not faking it or –” Phil cuts him off by wrapping his arms around Dan's waist and hugging him gently.

“I know what it means,” he says, voice quiet and soothing in Dan's ear. “And of course you're not faking it, why would you?”

Dan's reeling a little bit. He's got explanations ready to spill out from between his teeth and he feels slightly out of control, like he's hurtling headfirst into unknown territory. In a way he supposes he kind of is.

“I dunno, I guess I just?” He trails off, unsure of what to say. He'd expected to have to explain himself,  _defend_ himself even. He supposes he should have known better. Phil's not the sort of person to laugh off a coming out statement. He's not trans but he is bi – he knows what it's like to come out, to let people in like that. To make himself vulnerable in the scariest way.

Thinking about going through the coming out process again makes Dan want to be sick. It was hard enough once, and that was just coming out as bisexual. Coming out as genderfluid to anyone other than Phil is going to be torturous.

“Do you want me to call you a different name or anything?” Phil's asking. Dan snaps to attention. “Or like, pronouns?”

Dan's eyes are stinging a little and there's a bright, sudden glow of happiness where the empty feeling usually resides. Phil knows about pronouns, and he's asking about names, and Dan doesn't have to fight to make him understand. He takes a deep breath.

“I haven't really thought about names yet,” he admits. “It's been a bit.” He makes a vague gesture at his head. “I've been a bit scattered. You know?”

“I could tell,” Phil says gently. And like. God. Of course he could. He knows Dan better than anyone else in the world.

Dan blinks, then lowers his eyes so he's staring at his socks. They're both black but they don't quite match and it's annoying.

“I haven't really thought about pronouns either,” he admits, his voice very quiet. He can feel Phil's chest rising and falling slowly as he breathes. “I've kind of tried to avoid it. It's easier to just be a he.”

“It's not about easier though, is it?” Phil asks, careful and soft. Dan closes his eyes. There's a little bit of a lump in his throat.

“No,” he whispers. “No, it's not.”

  
-

 

Phil doesn't push and Dan is so fucking grateful for that, is so fucking glad that Phil is letting him take his time with this. He lets Dan know that he's there, that he's ready and willing to talk whenever Dan needs, and he leaves it at that.

A week after Dan accidentally comes out, he and Phil are in the lounge on their laptops, alt-J playing quietly on the stereo. Rain is streaming down the window and Dan feels very calm. He's on tumblr, looking at androgynous fashion (which is sort of his thing anyway, has been for years, and he snorts a little because the more he thinks about it the more this whole gender thing adds up) and he feels very neutral today, neither boyish nor girly. He likes neutral days the best, he thinks. His dysphoria – a word that he learned pretty recently, a word that gives heft and validity and meaning to the horrible aching emptiness in his chest and the overwhelming itchy wrongness in his skin that he so often feels – is at its mildest on neutral days, and he's usually okay to wear his normal clothes on days like this as well.

“Just Dan is okay,” he says. There was no prompting but Dan's not sure how else to bring it up. Phil looks up from his laptop and shoots Dan a sunshiney smile.

“Okay!” he agrees, and Dan is so filled with love for this man that he's stunned by it. Phil is so wholeheartedly  _good_ , a better friend by far than Dan deserves, and Dan loves him more than he's ever loved anyone before. He says as much.

“I love you too,” Phil tells him. His eyes are sparkly behind his glasses. “No matter what, yeah? No matter what you identify as, you're still you.”

Dan doesn't mean to start crying, he really doesn't. But Phil's words and the honesty behind them are too much and before he can prevent it, a few tears roll down Dan's face.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, scrubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. “Holy shit, thank you.”

 

-

 

Dan starts to be braver, starts to order girl clothes online and wear them around the house. Phil always smiles, his eyes crinkling up and his tongue poking through his teeth, and tells Dan he's the prettiest girl Phil's ever seen.

Dan starts using different pronouns as well, on her girliest days. On her days when she flits through the flat in various shades of pink and purple and pastel blue, on her days when she puts on lipstick and mascara and flutters her eyelashes at the mirror. It feels nice and it feels comfortable and she likes it, likes how Phil calls her  _pretty_ and  _princess_  and  _my girlfriend_.

On one of her bravest days, she runs a bath and puts in a very pink bath bomb from Lush that makes the bathroom smell like vanilla bean and neroli. And then she shaves her legs.

She nicks herself a few times, and it takes absolute ages, but when she finishes, her legs are sleek and smooth and long and  _lovely_. It's like when Louise waxed Dan's leg after she uploaded a video late, but better, because both of her legs are entirely smooth and hairless and overall the process was much less painful.

After Dan's bath she wraps a towel around her chest and marches into the lounge, sticking a leg in front of Phil.

“Touch my leg,” she orders. Phil looks up at her with his eyebrows raised. “Go on.” He reaches out and runs a hand along her shin, sending sparks up her spine. His eyes go wide.

“Oh, oh wow, that's really nice,” he says. Dan grins.

“Isn't it?”

 

-

 

Dan and Phil are laying in bed, scrolling through twitter and tumblr before they go to sleep for the night, and they've each got one of Dan's earbuds so they can listen to music together. Dan's tapping her fingers against Phil's forearm in time to the soft voices of The Paper Kites and the lyrics make her think so much of Phil that it hurts. When the refrain comes on ( _can I be close to you, oh, can I be close to you)_ she turns onto her side and props herself up on her elbow to look at Phil.

“Hi,” he says after a moment, locking his phone and looking up at her. His eyes are blue and green and gold and so, so beautiful behind his glasses. “You read my mind, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

The fuzzy warmth in Dan's stomach fizzles out immediately and is replaced with cold emptiness. Her mind is racing, thinking up worst case scenarios at a dizzying pace.  _Phil hates you Phil thinks you're a freak Phil thinks you're a liar Phil's going to leave –_

“Would you ever want to think about surgery?”

Dan's jerked back to reality by Phil's voice and she peers at him for a few seconds, struggling to make sense of the words. Then she frowns.

“What, like?” she says, trailing off. Phil nods.

“Yeah, like, transitioning. Permanently.”

Unease coils in Dan's stomach and panic crawls up her throat. She pauses the music and pulls out her earbud, then sits up, wrapping her arms around her knees. She's not good enough, she's a freak, Phil doesn't  _want_ her –

“Shit,” Phil mutters. He scrambles to get out from under the duvet and tentatively puts a hand between Dan's shoulderblades. She flinches a little and Phil's breath catches.

“Why did that upset you?” he asks, endlessly gentle as he rubs the tips of his fingers against Dan's back. Dan closes her eyes and makes herself breathe slow and steady.

“Why isn't this okay?” she whispers when she thinks she can open her mouth without bursting into tears.

“Why isn't what okay?” Phil asks, and he sounds so genuinely bewildered that Dan has to look at him, has to see if he's taking the piss.

One glance at his wide eyes, the alarmed tilt of his mouth, lets Dan know that he's not. Oh, god.

“Me. Like, how I am,” Dan says, flapping her hand uselessly at herself. Phil's eyebrows furrow together.

“Nothing's wrong with it, you've just been a girl for ages, I didn't know if you had changed or if you wanted to? And I know transitioning is expensive, I've been doing research, but we're not exactly poor, we could do it if you want to.”

“I don't want to,” Dan says vehemently. Phil blinks. “I'm fluid, Phil, I change all the time and surgery and hormones wouldn't help with that!”

“Okay,” Phil agrees. “Okay, I'm sorry, you're right, I just thought –”

“It's okay,” Dan interrupts. The panic and fear that had risen up inside her are already receding, fading away, and she knows Phil didn't mean to upset her. He was trying. He's always trying.

Dan leans in and kisses Phil softly.

“I'm sorry,” he says, sheepish and earnest. “I didn't mean to upset you, I just wanted to bring it up. So you'd know it was okay.”

“I know,” Dan tells him, kissing him again. They smile at each other for a few seconds, then kiss again and again, over and over until nothing exists but them.

 

-

 

Dan decides not to tell the internet. Not yet, anyway. It's such a personal thing and he's still trying to figure it out and he's just not  _ready_ yet. Phil nods – he gets it, he understands, and Dan is so grateful – and pulls him close and they just breathe. Just breathing isn't something that's always easy for Dan now, but the hollowness in his chest is easing up sometimes and he's being open with himself and with Phil and it helps. It helps to know who he is and what to do when he feels like he's going to implode. It helps that Phil didn't leave as soon as he told the truth.

 _Genderfluid_. Dan didn't even know the word until this year, and now that's how he identifies. It feels right.

For the first time in probably his whole life, he feels right.


End file.
